


F is for Fuck Or Die

by AcidArrow



Series: The A to Z of Kinky Smut Tropes: Bigger IS Better! [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Young Avengers
Genre: Best Friends, Clint Barton & Darcy Lewis Friendship, Clint Barton & Kate Bishop Friendship, Clint Barton Is a Good Bro, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Protective Clint Barton, SHIELD Family, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Sex Pollen, Threesome, Threesome - F/F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 02:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6404770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidArrow/pseuds/AcidArrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Bishop is hit with a new HYDRA chemical weapon, and two of her three listed "consenting partners" for a scenario just like this show up to help her... erm, take care of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	F is for Fuck Or Die

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bulmaveg_Otaku](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bulmaveg_Otaku/gifts).



> Obviously had to put a dub-con warning on this one, because sex pollen, but everyone is 100% consenting! W00t. Enjoy~ 
> 
> (Also, hooray for creating a new SHIP TAG!!!! <3)

“Okay, sooooooo… what kind’a brainfuckin’ exactly are we talking about here?”

Clint could hear the nervous skip in Darcy’s step from the way her Chucks pattered against the polished floors as the two of them were led with haste through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s winding warren of sub-levels. If anything, her anxiety only made him realize how bizarre it was that he found this situation incredibly normal… It certainly wasn’t the first time he had ever received this call.

“Some sort of slow-acting chemical compound we believe stimulates the receptors in the brain that recognize sensation, HYDRA agents have been using it against our agents to render them both hypersensitive to touch and completely defenceless for several months now, so we’ve been able to obtain some data on its effects.” Clint loved Natasha’s ability to speak so quickly and enunciate so well, because in times like this, he knew that it was time to switch off the stupid and work.

“Long-term effects?”

“Major nerve-damage, brain hemorrhaging, shutdown of major organs, death by stroke or heart attack.” The nervous skip increased just a little more each time Natasha opened her mouth to speak; Clint wondered if Darcy had ever even met the Black Widow before, or if she only had his and Kate’s stories to base the woman’s reputation off of.

If so, well… she probably had every right to be afraid.

“Okay, well here’s the question I don’t wanna ask, is there a cure?”

“It’s a sex pollen, Clint.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think I figured that out when you called me. Where is she?”

“Right through here.”

Natasha breezed past a pair of heavily-armed security guards and pushed open a set of double doors, striding into what appeared to be a monitoring and surveillance room for a cell of some description. The lights in the cell were dimmed, making it next to impossible for Darcy to see what was in there, but Clint knew what to look for – he could vaguely make out the silhouette of a large round bed and a prone figure laying on top.

Katey-Kate… goddammit, girl.

Beneath the large, one-way glass surveillance window was a set of monitors, all switched off, and standing with his hands on the desk was Phil Coulson. He gifted the two of them with a warm smile and stepped forward, offering his hand to Darcy.

“Hello, Miss Lewis, my name is Phil Coulson,” he said, shaking the stunned girl’s hand. “I work with the Hawkeyes here at S.H.I.E.L.D. as their primary handler.”

“Cool,” she said, slowly and flatly, sounding every bit as stunned as she was. Clint grinned a little inwardly, despite their predicament; how else would one really respond to that?

“I’m Darcy Lewis, I… I, ah, get baked and play Xbox with ‘em.”

“I know who you are, Miss Lewis,” he replied with a smile, and before the overwhelmed student could respond with another nervous quip, he continued. “Now, Clint knows why he’s been called here, because he’s done this before, but no one has spoken to you yet because this is the sort of thing where we take both our agents’ privacy and the privacy of their chosen respondents very seriously.”

Darcy glanced over her shoulder briefly at where Clint was unbuckling the worn purple leather cuff he usually wore on his left wrist, laying it on a steel tray that Natasha had set on the desk by the monitors. He caught her eye and she snapped her head back to face Phil, and he hid another smirk. The poor kid had no idea what she was in for… if she wanted to consent, that was.

“You’re here because one of our agents, a Miss Kathryn Bishop, has listed you as one of her requested respondents should she ever be in a position where she needs a specific form of spiritual and medical care that is imperative to her wellbeing, at a time that she is unable to personally give consent for said care. Are you following me so far?”

“Yes,” said Darcy, again very slowly, and she added as an afterthought, “though, I would really appreciate it if you talked to me more like a person and less like a legal contract.”

“This is a legal contract, Miss Lewis,” said Phil, and he lifted his eyes to Clint, who was pulling the belt out of his jean loops. “Agent Bishop was hit with a biological weapon today that has a ninety-two per cent chance of ending in fatality within three days unless proper care is administered to disperse the chemical compound through natural methods. Meaning, in the case of humans, sexual release. As in, orgasming.”

Tensing his jaw a little, Clint watched all of the colour – which really wasn’t all that much – drain from Darcy’s entire face, her mouth dropping open and her eyes widening in shock. There it was… he remembered the first time he was ever asked to do this, when Brock had ingested a similar compound back in the day. There wasn’t really a proper way to react to being told that your friend was in some horrific, science fiction, _fuck or die_ situation.

After a while, Clint unclenched his teeth out of concern for his friend and took a step toward her. “Darce?” She jerked alert at the sound of her voice, all of the blood rushing back to her face to spread across her nose in a heavy, hot blush.

“Oh! Yeah! Um, she… she mentioned that, once, but I… I kinda honestly thought after a few months that maybe she was just fucking with me and I felt like an idiot for even agreeing to it in the first place?” Darcy looked at Clint helplessly; he tried to feed her some of his confidence through their eye contact.

“Darce, no one’s gonna make you do anythin’ you don’t wanna,” he told her softly, and Phil nodded in assent.

“That is one-hundred per cent true,” he said, his eyes trustworthy and sympathetic. “Darcy, if you want to leave, you can. If you want to stay and make sure your friend is okay, but not participate, we can find somewhere comfortable for you to wait. Agent Barton is fully able to assist Agent Bishop with her needs from here.”

“No –” Darcy interjected, very, very quickly. Her line of vision flipped back and forth between the two men, any surprise or fear on her face now replaced with determination. “No, I want to help her. I’m – I’m happy to consent.”

Phil smiled, genuinely. “That’s great, Miss Lewis. Thank you. I’m sure Agent Bishop will be very grateful.”

Natasha appeared beside Darcy with a second tray. “I need you to place any sharp objects, jewellery, and personal possessions on here for me, please,” she said, firm but not at all curt or impolite. “Then remove your belt, shoes, and your glasses if you’re able to.”

“So what, are we like, flying to her, or something?” Darcy asked with a half-smirk as she reached up to pull out her earrings, taking the tray from Natasha and placing it on the desk. Natasha shook her head, not smiling.

“It’s just a safety precaution.”

“So I don’t, like… sue ya?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, but Natasha chose not to grace her with an answer, pulling out a clipboard of paperwork and handing it wordlessly to Clint, who began to fill it out with practice. He was on a lot of people’s lists.

“So, Darce, this is just some paperwork we need you to sign saying that you consent and are aware and yadda yadda –”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “Yadda yadda?” he repeated, completely unimpressed, and then sighed before explaining in slightly more detail than his agent. “We need to know if you have any pre-existing medical conditions or any allergies, as well as gain your full written consent for this procedure. Everything is explained in detail, take your time to read through; I’m here if you have any questions.”

* * *

Kate was still wearing her catsuit when her two respondents were finally cleared to enter the holding cell. Clint hissed silently between his teeth; yowzer, that extremely tight fabric couldn’t be doin’ her much good in her current situation. She was laying supine on a raised mattress, knees bent and pointing toward the low ceiling, her arms by her sides as she breathed slowly in and out. 

_Katey…_

Clint tossed a glance in Darcy’s general direction to make sure she was all right. Other than looking completely petrified, she seemed… fine? Confident? He held a hand up to pause her mid-step, gingerly approaching his protege’s bedside. He had seen sex pollen do some _bizarre_ things to some folk… and if Kate was going to lunge at anyone and start violently ripping their clothes off while trying to simultaneously remove their ear with her teeth, _well_ , he wanted it to be him, and not Darcy, who was on the receiving end of that.

“Hey there… you feelin’ all right, Hawkeye…?”

 Without moving a muscle – almost without even moving her lips, because she was just _that_ unimpressed – Kate replied through clenched teeth, “Hawkeye, I’m not even gonna grace that with an answer.”

“Heard ya breathed in some stuff you weren’t s’posed ta,” he said, perching on the edge of the mattress, his tone decisively more confident and playful now that he knew she was well enough to wisecrack, at least. “That’s a rookie mistake, kiddo.”

“Yeah, well… clearly I had _way_ too big of a craving to fuck an old guy,” she muttered back. Clint noticed her thighs were trembling, and reached out to put a hand on hers, trying to ignore the way she flinched. 

Her entire body was stiff, rigid, shaking. Her skin felt like touching a bare hot water pipe. She was drenched in sweat, a dark flush covering her freckled nose and cheeks. 

“Katey, it’s all right. There’s nothin’ to be ashamed of… okay? Everyone’s done this.”

She turned her head very, very slowly to face him, and opened her eyes. Her pupils were so huge there was no blue left in her eyes, which begged him in a way that she was simply too proud to beg him out loud. Clint knew her well enough to know exactly what she was asking: _Help me. I don’t know what to do._

Clint’s face was sober and serious, uncharacteristically so, as he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers with a confidence he hoped would inspire her own, let her know that there was _nothing wrong with this_. Being in a position where you needed to _orgasm out_ a toxic chemical could be a shameful, embarrassing one, and the last thing he wanted right now was for either of the less experienced partners in this moment feel embarrassed.

Kate made a soft, whimpering noise; there was nothing romantic between the two archers, there never had been and likely never _would_ be, but that didn’t keep the two of them from experiencing strong feelings of protectiveness and possessiveness over the other. In that moment, Clint wanted nothing more than to help the younger Agent, in the same way his own mentors had guided him through his own struggles when he first hit the field.

The ex-carny lifted his hands carefully to Kate’s shoulders, easing her into an upright position on the firm mattress that was easily supporting both of their weight, all whilst keeping his lips moving against hers. Her long nails squeaked as they gripped the surface beneath her, scrabbling to keep from touching herself as Clint pushed his tongue into her mouth to deepen the kiss and initiate a more intimate contact. 

“This is just sex, Katey-Kate. Okay?” His lips dragged themselves over hers as he spoke, fumbling for the zipper of her catsuit. “You got… you got any questions, or anything… y’know… you’re worried about…?”

She was silent for a long while, breathing and panting hard, before she mumbled a soft, “No. No, I’m fine. I trust you, Clint…”

“Okay, good.” The Avenger shot a glance over one broad shoulder. “Okay, now… Darcy’s here too. So we can both… or you two can… or I can…? But you gotta make sure you come, Hawkeye, okay? Whoever does it, you gotta do it.”

Kate chewed her lips, thinking, mulling, deciding… she wanted her mentor there, she didn’t really trust anyone else to make sure this was taken care of properly, but at the same time… 

“I want… both of you.”

“Greedy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she snapped at him, a little harsher than she meant to. Now that she had broken out of her meditative, still haze, she was starting to feel the effects of the sex pollen more… potently… and his hand unzipping the front of her catsuit wasn’t helping matters, either. “You’re just lucky you get to be here…”

“You bet your ass I –” he started, but Kate had moaned and launched herself on top of him, tackling him down as  _hard_  as she could onto the mattress and sliding both thighs around his waist as her hands ripped desperately at his tee-shirt. Goddamn… how _controlled_ did this girl have to be that she had managed to stay sane under pollen that strong for _this long_!? 

“Orgasm… okay… I can, ungh, I can do this…” she was spluttering between moans, literally tearing Clint’s shirt off of him and going for his jeans. Or rather, going for what was _underneath_ his jeans, but she had to get the damned jeans off of him first. Clint lay beneath her, giving her control over the situation all the while she still had the strength and sense of mind to top. He finished peeling her catsuit open down to deep below her naval, not surprised at all that the bra and underwear was built into the suit, and that she was bare-chested and commando underneath. 

“Darce, can you – can you come over here and kiss me so I, ungh, fuck, so I don’t have to kiss _this_ loser?”

The other girl had been quite happy to stand back and watch until she was needed. The Hawkeyes had a very _intense_ and _intimate_ relationship that, while she was Kate’s best friend and the other girl had literally filled the role of the sister she had always wanted, she didn’t want to get in the way of. She was there for Kate, and when Kate needed her, she was happy to spring to attention and get, erm, _involved_ … but when and _only_ when the two agents needed her.

Darcy smirked crookedly to herself; the one thing she loved about the Hawkeyes was their ability to make _anything_ not feel weird. The three friends having no-strings-attached life-saving sex was _definitely weird_ , and yet… it didn’t feel that way. She took the steps to bring her to her friend’s side and lifted a hand up, trying not to wince at how hot the raven-haired woman’s cheek felt under the backs of her fingers.

“You know, he’s probably gonna jerk it to this for _months_ , right?”

“Ugh,” Kate said, rolling her eyes with the very last of her self-control, “probably.” And with that, she threw both strong, toned arms around Darcy’s shoulders and dragged the shorter girl closer to her, crushing her almost androgynous frame against her friend’s generous double dees as her lips and tongue hungrily sought those that would no doubt be softer and less _humiliating_ to kiss than Clint’s.

Beneath them, while a dark part of his brain was guiltily enjoying the show that definitely wasn’t for him _or_ anyone else, Clint was far more concerned with Kate’s wellbeing and physical health than perving over two of his friends making out. He sat up slowly, so that he wouldn’t interrupt them, and hooked his thumbs beneath the open front of her catsuit, peeling it down both tanned, freckled shoulders and easing her arms out of them one at a time. Kate didn’t resist, moaning and whimpering as his calloused fingers brushed and gripped her skin, which was hypersensitive to every touch thanks to the chemical coursing through her system. 

Clint had only seen Kate naked twice before, both on missions due to circumstances beyond both of their control, and he endeavoured to act now as he had acted on both of those previous occasions: like a professional gentleman, averting his gaze as best he could whilst… trying not to make it _obvious_ that he was averting his gaze. He stripped the catsuit over her breasts, freeing each one to the very warm air of the dimly-lit room – both of which would’ve been requested by her when she originally filled out her medical paperwork. Her nipples were completely erect, and as the fabric and zipper brushed over them, she cried out and thrust her body harder against Darcy’s, her tongue fully locked around the other girl’s at this point. 

“Oh, God…” she whimpered, pulling away from Darcy and clinging to her. Now that she had started to allow herself to feel whatever the chemical wanted her to, it was entirely consuming her mind, driving her to a new level of insanity she had never experienced before. Darcy looked afraid for a moment at the sight of her friend red-faced, panting, and almost in tears, squirming violently with her thighs still spread across Clint’s lap, grinding herself into his zipper, his button, the large bulge that was now incredibly obvious beneath his jeans, _anything_ that would offer some friction. But the easy laughter in Clint’s voice helped her calm down again.

“Hey, easy, girlie… c’mon…”

Kate whined as Clint pulled her away from Darcy’s soft, squishy front so that he could lay her down on the mattress. Darcy, not wanting to leave her poor desperate friend alone for too long, hopped up onto the mattress on her knees and was promptly yanked back down by the front of her tee-shirt. Kate’s hungry lips found hers and claimed them quickly, with both want and need, her hands fighting with Darcy’s shirt. She was driven mad with lust, and all she wanted to do was touch her friend’s bare skin.

Darcy had experimented a lot with her sexuality, enough to know that as much as she loved dick, there was nothing quite as wonderful as touching a woman’s body. Kate’s hands were all over her, sliding beneath her shirt and stripping it up over her head, finding her breasts through her simple lacy bra. Darcy moaned into Kate’s mouth, her lipstick smeared across the other girl’s mouth in a way that caused her to shiver in anticipation as her own hands, a little cold, adventured their way along the archer’s naked sides, skimming her ribs, before tentatively cupping each of Kate’s much smaller breasts, thumbs finding her nipples to play with them. 

Kate choked out a gasp, her nails digging a little into Darcy’s shoulders as she clung to the older woman. “Oh, oh God!” she repeated, her dilated eyes wide as she ground herself down hard, rolling her hips into Clint’s as her mentor groaned and shifted his body so that he could slowly work her suit down her thighs, enough that he could access what he needed to. She was already drenched and, no doubt, raw with an actual, physical _need_ … he didn’t want to keep her waiting any longer than was necessary.

“God, God… you both… better… fuck…!” Kate whined and whimpered as Darcy straddled her stomach, kissing her throat and breasts and anything else she could reach. Kate had finished tugging her shirt off, and so she sat there in her jeans and her bra, the rough lace edging of it brushing over her friend’s nipples and causing her to cry out from the exaggerated sensation.

“Fuck! Fuck! _Fuck_!” she screamed raggedly, and at first Darcy wasn’t sure why, until she cocked her head back over her shoulder and realized that her thighs were now draped over Clint’s strong shoulders, his head between them, tongue and mouth working her in a way that was pulling noises out of her that genuinely terrified Darcy. Until now… shit, she had never realized it was even _possible_ for a person to feel _that much pleasure_ …

“Fuck, oh, fuck! Clint, fuck, _fuck_ , don’t! Fucking!  _STOP_!”

And he didn’t, and Kate remembered why she could _always_ trust him with her life. His warm, deft tongue swirled expertly around her clitoris, the tip teasing with fast, firm flicks back and forth over the top of it. Kate’s thighs tightened around his head, squeezing him close to her as her body bucked and arched beneath Darcy, her lips clamping down over her friend’s in an effort to gag herself and muffle some of her desperate, blissful cries.

Kate’s entire mind went white as she came against Clint’s mouth, clenching hard around the two fingers he had worked into her to curl up and rub against her G-spot. His tongue pressed flatly against her, giving her a surface to work against in order to guide herself successfully through her orgasm, her body jerking and thrashing in the throes of it. 

Finally she gasped out Darcy’s name, and slumped down hard on the mattress, her powerful arms clinging tightly to her friend as she panted dryly, gulping in greedy amounts of oxygen to replenish what her climax had cost her. Smirking a little, Clint licked her clean, causing her body to shudder and jerk a little, before getting up from the end of the bed and starting to work off his protege’s boots so that he could finish removing her catsuit.

They were far from over here, and he wanted to make sure that by the time Kate’s system was desperate to go again, which could be mere _minutes_ from now, they were all much more comfortable and much more _naked_ than this. 

And then maybe, after, he could ask her the question that had been bugging him since he had arrived and seen Darcy Lewis waiting for him with Natasha – who the hell was Kate’s _third_  listed respondent…?

* * *

The vision and audio from the cell, whilst still being recorded and stored for everybody involved’s protection, was switched off in the monitoring room. As far as Phil was concerned, he not only was it completely inappropriate for him to watch what was happening in there, he really didn’t much fancy it, either. He was far more interested in the sports section of the newspaper, the crossword and sudoku already finished and laying on top of the keyboard on the desk to his right.

The sound of footsteps caused him to raise his head; he wasn’t expecting anyone, and those footsteps sounded awfully rushed. Before he could set his newspaper down there was a frantic knocking at the door, and Phil frowned, folding away the newspaper and quickly moving to the window on the door, one hand grazing his sidearm.

… of course.

“You’re awfully late,” he said, after he had unlocked and pulled the door open so that the other man could stumble into the surveillance room, panting as if he had run from the elevators – which it was quite possibly he actually _had_. 

“Never mind, it turns out we didn’t actually need you. Agent Barton took care of it.”

“Oh… oh, okay…” Bruce leaned on the desk, trying to ignore the cramp in his side as he finally caught his breath. “I just got the message, said… said it was urgent, so… is… is everything okay?”

Phil grinned. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about it, Doctor. You can get back to whatever Stark was tormenting you with.”

Bruce looked at him, more than a little confused, before reaching up to wipe his forehead with his sleeve and nodding slowly.

“All right… okay… well… can I ask what it was about, at least?”

Glancing back at the monitors, Phil cleared his throat and folded his arms. “I wouldn’t worry about it, Doctor Banner. It was… a _biological emergency_ we had, someone requested you come in to help. But we got it all taken care of.”

Bruce looked almost terrified, raising one eyebrow incredulously. “… and Agent _Barton_ was the one who took care of it? A _biological_ emergency?” 

Phil nodded, smirking a bit to himself, in that way that Bruce didn’t always exactly _trust_. “It’s… kind of a _specialty_ of his. Trust me, he’s… the _best_ man for this kind of job.”


End file.
